


Pebbles

by badgerpride89



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Father issues, Gen, Implied Mpreg, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerpride89/pseuds/badgerpride89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for hobbit-kink prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5346.html?thread=10935266#t10935266</p>
<p>Thorin and Bilbo's child hates Thorin for hurting Bilbo. Somehow, this changes everything and nothing at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So it begins

The day of commons was coming to an end and not soon enough for the King under the Mountain. He was weary and still had many meetings yet before he could retire. He refused to show it, however, not only because much of the court was in attendance but because his people deserved their King knowledgeable in all the goings on and not just the ones his advisers thought important. The line had finally dwindled enough for Thorin to spy something unusual. One of the figures, cloaked and hooded, kept herding the others in front of them. Briefly Thorin wondered just how long this person had stood in his chambers. The figure turned towards him and though Thorin still could not make out any features, he felt the glare the person leveled at him.

He kept his curiosity in check and dealt with the rest of the petitioners as quickly as courtesy allowed. The figure stepped forward, full of purpose. He was on the short side for a dwarf and must be young indeed for no hints of a beard under that red cloak. The hall had fallen silent around them but the boy did not so much as twitch. He stood silently in front of the dais for several long, uncomfortable moments, completely breaking protocol, and Thorin felt the challenge issued. He bristled but kept his composure. He was the King here, not this boy. Then the boy snorted, the sound ringing through the stone. The snort turned into a derisive chuckle as the figure shook his head.

Thorin growled, his fists clenching, but that seemed to be the boy's cue for he removed his hood, revealing a dark smirk upon his beardless face. All in all, he looked rather unimpressive. His dirty-blond hair was done in a loose ponytail, curls spilling out of it and framing his angular face. The boy's clear blue eyes held nothing but contempt. Then Thorin spotted his ears. Delicately pointed if a bit large but now there was no mistaking their guest was a hobbit though what a hobbit was doing with boots on his feet was a mystery. The sight sharply reminded Thorin of their burglar, save the hatred upon his face. He was fairly certain Baggins could hate no one. Perhaps Thorin himself for his banishment, which Thorin still held to, but no others.

"You are far from home, Master Hobbit," Thorin said coolly amid the the buzzing whispers. The boy shook his head once more.

"I might be," he replied cryptically. "Then again, maybe not."

"And what brings you to my halls?"

The boy crossed his arms, holding himself high as a king. "I'm here on a rather important mission," he said and puffed himself even further. "I'm here to deliver something to Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin nodded at the attendant who stepped towards the hobbit. Before the attendant took two steps, the boy darted up the steps to Thorin's throne and spat in his face. Thorin grabbed the boy by his scruff amid the shouts and clangs of weapons drawn. Still, the boy looked rather pleased with himself even when Thorin practically threw him into Dwalin's waiting grasp.

"You dare offer our King insult in his own halls?" Dwalin growled as he put the boy in a choke hold.

Far from terrified or remorseful, the boy smiled darkly. "I'm just returning the favor," he snapped.

Thorin growled angrily as he wiped the spit from his beard. "Explain yourself now," Thorin commanded. "and I might spare your hand."

The boy chuckled again then winced as Dwalin's grip tightened. Then he favored Thorin with a smile that was all teeth. "Surely your memory's better than that," he condescended. "Unless you've wronged other hobbits since then."

"So, Bilbo Baggins sent you," Thorin stated.

The boy snorted again. "Actually, he warned me off," he replied cockily. "But when someone you love's been wronged, well, let's just say in the Shire we get even."

"You are Baggins' son," Thorin returned, some sense finally entering the conversation.

"Finally, he gets it," the boy smarted. "He told me you were a dense lot but come on."

The gathered assembly grumbled at his words, Thorin included, but he held a staying hand to keep weapons sheathed. For now.

"Be glad I didn't run into Gandalf on my way here," the boy continued. "I don't think those fireworks of his are meant to be lit underground."

"Throw him into the dungeons," Thorin ordered.

Dwalin lifted the boy off the ground but the boy's next words stopped him cold. "Can princes even be thrown into dungeons?"

Thorin growled once again. "Prince of the Shire or no, I'll not-"

The boy laughed. And laughed, each sound drenched in pity, hatred, and dark enjoyment. "The Shire hasn't got any princes," the boy said condescendingly. "I meant Dwarf princes."

Dwarf prince? This hobbit was claiming kinship to a dwarf king? Thorin almost felt pity for Baggins, having such a mad son. The boy moved in for the kill.

"Did I mention that all hobbits can sire and birth children?" The boy used Dwalin's shock to wriggle out of his grasp. The assembly looked on in confusion, wondering what this little piece of information had to do with anything. But Dwalin, Balin, and other Company members looked at the boy in dawning horror, Thorin included. The pieces began to fall into place and he hated what he saw.

The boy stood full of surety, his arms crossed once again. "And did I mention I'm forty?" he finished, reveling in the dumbstruck looks surrounding him.

"Who are you?" Thorin managed to ask over the growing lump in his throat.

"Meriadoc Baggins, son of Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield, at your service," he finished mockingly, complete with an exaggerated bow.

The hall went silent at the announcement. The boy, his son- Mahal, now that he knew, how did he miss it- took a deep breath, a satisfied air about him as he lowered his shoulders and rocked a bit on his feet. Fili's mischievous smirk sat on Meriadoc's lips and Thorin's own glare looked out at him.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not here to usurp the throne or anything," he said in a falsely reassuring voice. "No need to bring the cousins into such a personal matter."

The boy marched towards Thorin once more, stopping several paces away so as to keep the guards at bay. "I just wanted you to know," he said in a falsely light tone. "Thought you deserved all the guilt and self-loathing my father's held all these years. All the nights of silent tears, all the days he hated himself because he still couldn't hate you for you did. All the nightmares," here the boy's words twisted in the darkest hate Thorin had heard thus far. "because you just. wouldn't. listen. Not about how he was trying to protect his child, not about how banishment could kill him, nothing. I don't know how you did it, that he still fought for you lot when the warg-riders and goblins came, but congrats for a fine performance."

Oh, yes, the boy was his. That look spoke for itself. Meriadoc bridged the final steps between them and hissed, "I want you to know my father gave birth on the road home with only Gandalf to see him through. I want you to know every slight and insult we endured. I want you to know that in spite of your blood in me, my father loves me more than life itself. And despite you, I am a son he can be proud of."

Meriadoc drew back and pulled his hood back over his head. "Mostly, I want you to know what you've missed. I disown you, Thorin Oakenshield," he stated, raising his voice so all might hear him. "as you disowned us forty-one years ago. I suspect we'll not see each other ever again."

With that, the boy walked out of the halls.

* * *

"Have a nice visit?" Pippin asked when Merry rejoined him in Dale.

Merry pulled him into a one-armed hug. "Of course I did," he retorted. "Warn off a king, throw his court into disarray, take minor vengeance, what's not nice about it?"

"We better get going then," Pippin said as he mounted his pony and Merry did the same. "No telling when they'll get unstuck."

Merry snorted and pulled out his pipe as they headed towards Mirkwood forest. "Stones go nowhere," he replied.

Pippin nudged him. "Course they do," he said lightly. "It's just easier when they're pebbles."

Merry swatted him but smiled nonetheless.


	2. The first stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin broods, a lot, the Company kind of talks, and a decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is late, mostly because I was trying to work Gandalf's arrival and the subsequent yelling/argument/bitch-fest into it and it refused to stay put. So, Gandalf next chapter, then we get to Pippin and Merry (finally).

The Mountain was in an uproar.  Thorin paid it no mind as he stalked towards his rooms, silencing lords and councilors alike with an unrepentant glare as he passed. His guards, smart dwarves they were, ducked out of his chambers upon his arrival. He placed his hands on nearest table and leaned heavily into them before he took a deep breath and growled angrily. That wretched, cowardly, little-

Thorin slammed his fists against the hard stone, the sharp pain clearing the red which threatened to overtake his vision. Another deep breath and Thorin forced his anger, his outrage, _everything_  back to the edges of his mind where he could deal with it later. He had more pressing concerns. And damn, he hadn't had this much difficulty separating himself since aftermath of Moria. But no, that was not entirely true. Snared by gold, each action, inaction, and reaction's meaning had been magnified until each small slight stood as the gravest insult of his life.

Frustrated with himself and the reminder of the most shameful period of his life, Thorin grabbed his pipe, lit it, and sat before the banked fire. The rote motions soothed him little. That damn burglar had a son. His son, a boy whose betrayed and defensive demeanor Thorin knew all too well. Whose hair could have come from Thorin's own mother as easily as Baggins. Involuntarily, Thorin found himself wondering. Did Meriadoc feel the thrum of stones, see the potential of newly unearthed gems and ores? Did his hands long to create, to carve?

Thorin laughed bitterly at himself. He knew nothing of even the most basic facts of the boy, his favorite food or color, whether he preferred reading or mathematics or activity, how would he ever learn the boy's more intimate details? What right had he? He had banished the boy's father without a second thought and, Mahal give him strength, he would do it again, held to it now, even had he known about the boy. Kings did not negotiate with sacking invaders who had hoped for the Company's destruction to ease their way to what rightfully belonged to it. Kings could not abide traitors, which Baggins was, reasoning aside, that infuriating little hobbit had stolen from him and handed the arkenstone, the one treasure in the entire mountain Thorin laid claim to, to their enemies, escalating an already too tense situation. No, nothing Baggins could have told him would have changed anything. Perhaps it was a good thing the boy surprised him so; he seemed to be under the impression Thorin would have chosen differently had he known. Mahal, what would he have done? Kept Baggins in the mountain until the babe was born and send him on his way? Raise a bastard son of a traitor and king, expose a half-dwarf child to that sort of life? Could he have done it? No, Thorin didn't think so. Besides, Baggins wouldn't have allowed himself to be separated from his child; for all that hobbits had many children, they were no less protective of them than dwarves were of their few. 

Perhaps that was the most frustrating part of this whole mess: of all the possible scenarios, this seemed the best outcome. 

He had to give the boy credit. He certainly knew how to leave a lasting impact. Wondering was what the boy wanted, was the punishment he bestowed upon Thorin for the apparent damage he'd wrought on two lives. Thorin groaned. The future, past, and the lives that could have been had dominated his long, difficult life and such ingrained parts of his personality were not to be eradicated. Especially now, with the appearance of someone who symbolized it all. Oh, yes, the boy was his and had chosen his sire's punishment well.

His chamber door swung open to the clattering and clunking of several pairs of footsteps, easily identifiable among them his nephews' footfalls. Thorin sighed quietly and shifted his chair to face the Company, all together in the same room at the same time in...years. Perhaps decades. Ori's hard won confidence had melted away, making him look younger than he had before the quest. Balin looked older and wearier than Thorin had ever seen. Something in Bofur had broken in the hours between the boy's proclamation and now. Fili stood beside his brother, his eyes harder than stone, as Kili, with all the privileges of youth, visibly seethed and crossed his arms.

"So, apparently we have a cousin." And spoke first.

"Your surprise is mine, I assure you," Thorin returned.

That seemed to relieve many of the dwarves though Dwalin and Fili still pinned him with their stares. They always did know him best.

"We are going after him, right?" Kili said, glancing at the others.

"I don't think he'll want to speak to us, lad," Bombur said gently.

"Pro'lly hates us more than Thorin," Bofur said hollowly. "Not like any of us did anything 'bout it. Know I would."

"He seemed rather fixated in his anger," Dori corrected.

"D'ya think that matters?" Bofur snapped harshly and turned on Thorin. "We could've checked in on 'im, written him, done something when you threw your stone-damned tantrum-"

"Have a care how you speak in my halls," Thorin growled as he stood to tower over the miner.

"Bofur," Bombur prodded his brother but Bofur ignored it.

"That hobbit saved all our lives more times than I can count and we just-"

"That is the reason he still lives," Thorin seethed as his shoulders lowered and his hands curled into fists.

"Uncle," Fili spoke up, stepping between them. "You both have a point," he continued, his voice full of dark diplomacy. "Master Baggins had to be punished for his transgressions. But, we also had a duty to him as his shield-brothers. You never forbade contact yet none of us initiated it." He hadn't? He supposed it was a testament to the long years that the burglar had remained in the deepest recesses of his mind that Thorin could not remember. "In that alone, we failed him."  _They_ failed  _him_? Rubbish. The ties of shield-brothers broke when loyalty and fealty did. Looking upon the slowly calming Bofur, however, Thorin thought it best to not voice that opinion.

"If you see it that way," Thorin finally said and some of the tension eased. Fili nodded, Kili half a second behind him. Dwalin, Balin, Bofur, Bombur, and Ori did as well.

"I thought he'd want to forget, to put it behind him," Ori admitted quietly. "I know I would."

The chamber quieted only for a moment when Kili spoke again.

“I’m going after him,” he declared then cast his gaze at the rest of the group. “Come or not, it makes no difference. If I go now, perhaps I can make it to Dale before he leaves it.”

Though Kili’s words were resolute, a vulnerable, almost pleading look entered his eyes. Thorin met that gaze steadily and said lowly, “Go, then.” It was the closest statement to a blessing he could give. He could not forgive Baggins and if that boy ever entered his halls again, there would be _words_ but neither could he bring himself to outright forbid his son in all but blood from doing what he felt needed to be done.

Kili exhaled and exited the chamber, shoulders high and square, neck lowered defensively. Fili left with him; Bofur, Ori, and Gloin filing after them once they’d had a quick word with their families. The rest of the Company left as well, until only Balin and Dwalin remained. Thorin returned to his chair by fire and Balin sat beside him as Dwalin stood guard near the door, close enough to speak if he wished yet far enough Thorin knew his words would be unwelcome.

“We are going to have to discuss what all of this means,” Balin eventually ventured as he ran a tired hand through his beard. “Baggins, the succession, the boy’s crimes on top of that-“

“Tomorrow.”

Balin sighed but nodded. “Aye, tomorrow then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Using Merry as I did was inspired by the fact that while Frodo looks like a combination of Bilbo and Thorin, the boy's personality definitely doesn't scream dwarf. Merry, on the other hand, has a bit of a mean, honor-driven, and stubborn streak to him so out of our four hobbits, he's the best candidate for half-dwarfdom to me.
> 
> More in this verse to come.


End file.
